Love at First Snapshot
by amillionyears
Summary: The last thing Blaine expected when he moved to Lima was to fall for Kurt Hummel, a member of the egotistical theatre major at William McKinley High School of the Arts. Klaine/AU
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

"Welcome to the campus of William McKinley High School of the Arts," the woman greeted, giving a bright smile as she gestured to the building behind her. She continued, "McKinley was established September 1992. Since then it's been an establishment full of creative achievement along with academic success. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you on a tour of the inside and at the end I can answer any questions you may have."

"Are you sure about this, Blaine?" Mr. Anderson asked as he scanned over the brochure. "From what I'm reading here, it takes a lot to get into this school. Not that money is a problem—it's relatively expensive, but we _can_ afford it—but there are auditions and you have to keep up your grades. These are some of the highest in the state!"

"I know, dad," Blaine replied. "I can do it. It's basically what Coop did in California, right?"

"Right, but-"

"I can do it, dad. Just trust me on this one."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please walk this way toward the courtyard."

Blaine took the initiative and walked a few feet ahead of his father, gazing around the school appreciatively. From the outside the school looked like any other he'd been to around the area; it had the tiled floors, cement block walls, lockers, sports fields, and a cafeteria, all simply done like a regular, normal public school. It wasn't anything like Dalton Academy, the preppy private school his father _wanted _him to attend. The only similarities between the two would be their academic success.

No, McKinley was a _lot _different, and in a good way at that.

"And here you will find the auditorium. Most performances- musicals, plays, dance recitals- are all held here. And when Film Week rolls around, we take the overhead projector and show all of the students' films here as well," the woman beamed, "The auditorium was donated by April Rhodes before the school became an arts institute. It seats over 500 people and, as you can see, features an orchestra pit and also comes with a full light and sound board."

"Phew, that's a lot to take in," said Blaine's father, shaking his head. It was clear he wasn't excited about the school. He'd already had to suffer watching one child take the path of the arts, and though Cooper had turned out to be quite successful, he wasn't so sure he wanted another singing and dancing son. "Blaine, you think you can perform on that stage? You've always had stage fright."

Blaine's awestruck stare slowly found his father. He shrugged. "I don't think I'd have to, dad. The school offers a film course, remember?"

"Ah. Right."

Blaine watched his dad for a moment before awkwardly placing a hand on his father's shoulder. "Dad," he sighed, "if we're going to move to Ohio, at least let me pick my own school. Anyways, nothing is set in stone yet... If I don't pass my audition, I'll go to Dalton, okay?"

George Anderson nodded.

"But for now," Blaine whispered, letting his honey eyes swim back over the stage and the lights, "McKinley is where my heart is."

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam,_

_You will be pleased to know that your son or daughter has successfully passed the audition and is now admitted into William McKinley High School of the Arts._

_Your child, Blaine Anderson, will begin school on September 3rd. Further information regarding schedule, location, and requirements can be found inside._

_If you need any more information please visit our website or call our administrators at __(419)-324-1966._

_We look forward to having you in our school!_

_Sincerely,_

_Principal Sue Sylvester_

"That's excellent, Blaine!" Mrs. Anderson cooed, looking up from the letter with bright eyes and a wide smile. "Isn't it, George?"

"Yeah. Great job, kiddo."

Blaine tried not to read into the simple reply from his father, choosing instead to smile and reply with a, "Thanks," while silently hoping that his father was genuinely happy for him and would get over his disappointment by the end of the summer.

"I guess paying for your flights to go tour schools really paid off," his mother commented, handing the letter back to her son before picking up her sewing once more. "Blaine, are you finished packing? We're going to leave early and meet Cooper for dinner."

"I only have some clothes to put up," he answered. "I'll go do that now."

With that, Blaine turned on his heel and all but bounded up the stairs.

At least there was_ something _good about moving to Ohio.

* * *

"Bye, mom! I'll see you this afternoon."

After he waved goodbye to his mother's retreating silver Lexus, Blaine took a deep breath and stepped through the doors of McKinley High. The atmosphere was thrumming with excitement. Clustered here and there were groups of students, and Blaine was surprised to find that a few of them even chanced a wave and a smile at him. There were some, "oh look, a new kid"s or, "I haven't seen him around before"s, but none of them seemed spiteful, as he would have thought.

He glanced down at his schedule. "Film, room seventeen," he read, looking up and glancing around. "I have no idea where that is."

"Need some help?" a voice asked behind him. He turned to find a tall, lean Asian boy smiling at him.

Blaine blinked. "Yeah, some help would be nice. I'm looking for room seventeen."

"Oh, that's right by my class. I'll walk you there," the boy said, "I'm Mike, by the way. Mike Chang."

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine replied, "new kid."

"Well, new kid, I see you're taking film," Mike said, peering over Blaine's shoulder to get a look at his schedule. When Blaine gave a sheepish smile, he continued, "Relax, no judgement here. Anyways, film is cool. I'm majoring in dance."

"Really?" Blaine questioned. "That's awesome."

"Yup. Well, new kid, here's your stop. I'll see you around sometime."

"See ya." Blaine waved goodbye, smiling to himself. _I thought making friends would be hard, _he mused as he turned and entered the classroom_, Guess not._

He looked around. The scene in the classroom was just about the same as it was in the hallway. Among the thirty or so students in the room, most of them were split into groups of four or five and were chatting happily. In repetition of earlier events, a few complete strangers waved hello- he wondered if everyone here was friendly all of the time- though most were using the time before class to catch up on the events of the summer.

"Hey, you must be new."

Blaine turned his head to find a boy walking- no, wheeling- his way over.

"Do I scream new kid or something?" Blaine mused.

"Nah, it's just a close community. Anyways, I'm Artie Abrams, self-proclaimed leader of the film geeks. I make it my business to know anybody and everybody involved in film," he said, extending a hand. Smiling, Blaine shook it.

"I'm Blaine. I moved here from California about a week ago."

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He glanced up as the bell rang, signaling for all students to get in their appointed homerooms. "Why don't you come sit with me and Tina?"

Blaine nodded and followed the other toward the front of the classroom. Artie motioned for Blaine to take a seat as he wheeled up to the side of the table.

"Tina, meet Blaine. Blaine, meet Tina."

"Hi Tina," Blaine greeted, offering his hand and a friendly smile to the quiet Asian girl seated next to him. She shyly grabbed his hand and showed a tentative smile in return.

"Hey, Blaine."

"Alright, class, quiet down!"

A hushed silence fell over the room. Blaine sat back in his seat, watching the kind-looking blonde woman he assumed was his teacher with as much interest as he did the rest of the school.

"For those of you who may not know me," her eyes flickered over Blaine with a knowing smile, "I'm Mrs. Hall and I'll be teaching you film. Since this is how I usually start the school year and this year should be no different, we're going to head outside, play some games, and get to know each other. Sound good?"

There was a collective murmur of agreement.

And as he stood, grabbing his bag and following Artie and Tina out of the door, Blaine smiled.

He could _definitely_ get used to McKinley High.

* * *

**A/N:** Ta-dum! And here you have the long awaited story I've been talking about for months. I'm going to leave the long author's notes until later (don't want to scare off my new readers, haha) but there is one thing I want to say.

A _huge _thanks to my beta and source of information for most things regarding this fanfiction (and also for helping me with the title), CAStonehouse. :) Go read her stories when you have the time; she's awesome!

Don't forget to leave a review. :)


	2. Scene One

Scene One

* * *

When the bell chimed lightly for the next class, Blaine sighed softly. Artie cast him a knowing smile from across the circle and Blaine swore he saw Tina's lips twist in a brief smirk.

"Alright, duckies, class is dismissed!" Mrs. Hall called over the group, standing and motioning for everyone to leave before hurrying back inside the school to retrieve her next class.

"Just to note," Artie said, wheeling over in Blaine's direction, "not all of your classes will be this awesome."

Blaine watched after him and Tina as they left, almost - no, definitely- disappointed with the news; the class had been _totally_ awesome. Just as Mrs. Hall had promised, they played games and, for the latter half of the class, sat in a circle and simply talked. Needless to say, Blaine had enjoyed it. A lot.

"Blaine. Blaine, honey."

He blinked out of his stupor, looking up to find Mrs. Hall standing in front of him, her second period already gathered in a circle. "Oh," he muttered sheepishly, "sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about me," the woman assured, "but worry about yourself. You're late for your second class."

With a quiet curse under his breath, Blaine quickly excused himself and waved goodbye over his shoulder as he hurried toward his next class, French II.

It didn't help that he didn't have a clue where he was going, either. But, basing his whereabouts off of where his homeroom was, he eventually managed to locate room nine a few halls down.

"Now that you all have your assigned seats, I'd like to-" the teacher, a stout woman with greying black hair, turned to face him. "It seems someone is late for class. Care to explain, sir?"

"I- new- had to find class," Blaine huffed out with a pleading expression as he attempted to catch his breath. He added shyly, "Sorry."

"It's quite alright, just don't let it happen again." She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand. "You're Blaine Anderson, correct?" At his nod of affirmation, she gestured to her right and said, "Please take your seat next to Mr. Hummel and we'll get started."

With another quiet apology, Blaine did as he was told and slid into the seat appointed to him. The boy next to him giggled - yes, _giggled_ - softly.

"I'm Kurt," he greeted when Blaine looked his way, hand extended as the teacher allowed them all a moment to get settled.

"Blaine," he replied, taking the offered hand and giving it a gentle shake.

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, hazel eyes locked with glasz, before they simultaneously turned away with shy smiles to listen to what their teacher had to say.

The basic introductions went and the woman introduced herself as Mme. Thompson. She handed out a small rubric and a copy of her classroom rules, which, to Blaine's surprise, had a lot more than the generic stuff from his years in middle school.

"Now, we're going to do a small partner assignment to judge your basic knowledge of the language. For now we're just going to do partners based on seating, but don't worry; further into the year I'll allow you to choose who you pair up with," she said to the few quiet protests. "I'll hand one of you a list of questions and the other will have to write down what it means, or what you think it means. After fifteen minutes you'll swap," she instructed, fiddling with the timer before placing it on the desk. "You may begin."

Once the papers had been passed out, Blaine turned slowly to Kurt who smiled softly back to him. The expression caught him by surprise - really, that had to be the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

_Prettiest thing,_ his mind repeated before continuing to protest, _no. Absolutely not._

"Okay." Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly, forcing his eyes onto the list of words and phrases. "Mercy."

"Merci," Kurt corrected. "It means 'thank you'."

The remainder of the class continued like that. Blaine would stumble over the phrases and Kurt would correct him before answering without hesitation. When the time came to switch and get a new list of questions, Kurt recited the page as flawlessly as possible and Blaine struggled to reply. Finally Kurt said, "to hell with it," and went ahead and told him the answers.

_Brring!_

"That's the timer!" M. Thompson called. "Please pass your papers to the front. You may have the last few minutes of class to yourself."

Blaine handed his paper to the girl sitting in front of him, grinning when she cast him a sly wink and returning the gesture. When he turned, he found Kurt giving him a look with an indeterminable emotion.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Kurt replied impassively. Blaine raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it.

"Oh, thanks for telling me the answers," he said lamely.

"You're welcome," Kurt said, then added, "but it was more for myself than anything else. Your French is horrible." When Blaine gaped for a moment (he thought everyone here was friendly), Kurt smiled to show the words were teasing. "Honestly, Blaine. I'm not going to bite you."

Blaine grinned back sheepishly. "So, um," he began, looking for a change in conversation, "how did you get so good at French, anyways?"

Kurt laughed lightly when Blaine jumped, startled by the sudden, loud chiming of the school bell. "I have my ways," he answered coyly, already standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Slightly awed, Blaine watched the other go, dumbfounded. Then, realizing if he waited too long he would be late for class _again_, he grabbed his stuff and filed out of the room with the rest of the crowd.

And, as he walked down the hall in search of AP Calculus, he tried and failed to force the sound of Kurt's tinkling laughter out of his mind.

* * *

Thankfully by the time lunch came Blaine had successfully sidetracked his mind to focus on other, quite less embarrassing things.

Like food. He was starving.

He munched lightly on a few of his fries and glanced around the cafeteria in search of a table. A wave a few tables in front of him caught his eye and he smiled, walking over and flopping down unceremoniously in the chair across from the familiar face.

"Hi," Blaine greeted, "Mike Chang, right?"

"Right," the other boy said with a grin, "and you're New Kid."

Laughing, Blaine nodded and let the conversation fall in favor of his lunch. He all but stuffed the greasy, impossibly delicious pizza in his mouth, only stopping when he felt a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere.

He glanced up. Mike was eating, staring at his fingers as he drummed out a rhythm and whispered words - dance steps, Blaine supposed - under his breath. Casting his stare across the lunchroom, Blaine caught the person behind the gaze, a bit surprised to find Artie casting him a strange, curious look.

"I wonder what his problem is," Blaine muttered.

"Hm?" Mike questioned and Blaine slowly drew his eyes back to him.

"Oh, nothing. Artie was just looking at me oddly."

"You know," Mike said, shooting the boy in the wheelchair a look, "that's probably because you're sitting with me."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Mike seemed to be a pretty decent guy. _Then again_, he reminded himself, _you only met him this morning._ "Why would that be a problem?" he asked slowly.

"You're in film. I'm in dance." At that response, the shorter boy lifted both of his eyebrows curiously. Mike elaborated, "While everyone here is generally friendly there's an underlying current of tension between the majors. It's not really a big deal, but..."

"But?" Blaine prompted.

"You're in film. The only two majors who really have a problem with each other are film and theatre."

"Film and theatre," Blaine echoed. "Why?"

"Hell if I know," Mike answered. "But your friend Artie can probably explain it to you."

"I'll ask him about it," Blaine nodded, "but, until then, who all is in theatre? I guess I should find out before I make friends with one of them."

Mike pointed to a table toward the center of the room. "Over there."

Blaine looked over to where he was pointing. Sitting at the table were roughly forty teenagers, all with a common look of... superiority, he realized.

"The only theatre majors I've ever spoken with are Finn and Rachel. Finn's not bad, he was on the football team with me last year, and Rachel... well, she's annoying." Mike shrugged. "From what I can tell, though, they're all pretty arrogant."

But Blaine was hardly listening to Mike. Instead, his eyes were trained on the laughing, stylishly dressed Kurt Hummel sitting at the end of the table.

* * *

"Blaine, you're home!"

Wincing slightly as his mom gathered him in a bone-crushing embrace, Blaine dropped his bag and gently pried his mother off of him. "Yeah," he laughed, "I am."

"Oh, don't be smart. Tell me how your day went."

Blaine followed afterbe her and into the kitchen, sliding into the seat at the breakfast counter. He drummed his fingers lightly on the table and spoke, "It was good. Great, actually."

His mom smiled, glancing up from her vegetables to say, "Well?"

"Homeroom was awesome. The teacher is great and she seems like she's going to make her class really fun," he said, "and I met some pretty nice people. Everyone there is really friendly."

"Oh, that's nice." She looked up as her phone began to buzz, swiping it off of the counter and picking up. "Hey, honey... late again?... okay, okay…"

Blaine sighed quietly; even back in California, before his father had gotten the important job of CEO at his workplace, he was never around. On most occasions it was work meetings, staff parties, extra shifts, and then some were when he insisted out going out with his friends. _Or Cooper,_ he thought bitterly.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No thinking like that."

He quietly excused himself from the room, ducking up the stairs and into in his bedroom. He glanced around at all of the empty boxes and the packing peanuts scattered around the floor, briefly wondering what it would be like if he could tell his mother about meeting a nice boy in French II.

* * *

**A/N:** And here you have chapter one. :) Updates won't be weekly as far as I know; they may be sooner, or, if something comes up, later. This time it was just coincidence.

Anyways, go ahead and send me your thoughts! Another big thanks to _CAStonehouse_, my awesome and extremly helpful beta.


	3. Scene Two

Scene Two

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Blaine was mildly surprised to find that fitting in was not as difficult as he had made it out to be in his head. In fact, he deemed the new life he was living just as normal as it had been, the only change being the large amount of coursework that had accumulated itself over the first five weeks of being there. Actually, if he were being completely honest, Blaine would long since choose staying here over going back to California any day.

"Alright, duckies, your composition projects are due at the end of the week. No later!" Mrs. Hall instructed, bustling about to pass out the rubric before the bell rang for the next class.

Granted, though, he could do without the constant stream of homework.

He stuffed the paper into his notebook and gathered his things together. Seconds later, the bell chimed loudly and he was already heading for the door when a voice called out behind him.

"Yo!"

He turned and raised an eyebrow as Artie wheeled up to him. Tina shuffled up softly behind him. "We were wondering," Artie continued, "if maybe you'd want to catch a movie with us this weekend?"

Blaine thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, sure," he answered. "I'm playing a Call of Duty round with Mike on Sunday, but other than that my weekend is free." He pretended not to notice the way Artie visibly flinched at the mention of Mike's name.

"Alright, bro, sounds good. I'll text you with the deets, aight?"

Blaine nodded and watched the two leave, making a mental note to jot down the event on his calendar as he walked to French.

He plopped into his seat and hung his bag over the back of his chair, watching as the last of the students filed into class. Kurt was among them, walking in with his head high as he gracefully slipped into his seat beside Blaine.

Over the past few weeks, ever since learning of Kurt's social standing at the school, Blaine had begun to notice a collection of little habits among the theatre majors. And, with the added peer pressure caused by snippets of conversation he heard from all of his film student peers, everything he noticed began to annoy him.

Like the way they sighed audibly when someone failed to correctly answer the question, or the way they huffed when someone bumped into them in the hallway, or how they stuck their noses up in the air when they walked. Even their posture, of all things, began to annoy Blaine; couldn't they just slouch like a normal person?

He hadn't even spoken a word to Kurt since that first day, unless it was a simple, "here, pass these over," or "can you get that for me?" when his notebook papers fluttered off of the desktop. If asked, Blaine would quickly blame it on Kurt and his ego, but silently he knew he had made as much, if not less, of an effort to talk to the boy he had been so awestruck upon meeting. But instead of attempting to push past their differences, Blaine kept quiet - after all, what should make him want to be friends with this boy when he already had three, so much more down-to-earth others?

Blaine mumbled a halfhearted thanks as Kurt passed him the outlines for their latest assignment. He was just beginning to scan over the paper when Mme. Thompson spoke.

"We'll be doing another partner assignment for the next two weeks. The object of the assignment is to..." she said, stopping to answer a question. Blaine's attention faltered as he started looking for someone to partner with. He got his answer seconds later.

"We will not be choosing our partners this time around. I do realize that I said otherwise earlier in the year, and I have stuck to that promise for every assignment leading up to this. My only explanation as to why concerns..." her gaze wandered over to Noah Puckerman, "ah, behavioral issues."

Kurt snorted softly beside him.

"To save myself the trouble of pairing you up, we'll do partners based on seating," Mme. Thompson concluded.

He stopped himself from letting out an audible groan and put on his best indifferent look. Kurt sighed.

The lesson continued and neither boy said a word to each other as the teacher explained everything from _when_ they were working on it - Blaine cursed under his breath when he realized most of it would need to be done after school - to how they should format the essay section. For once, Blaine was thankful for all of Brittany's pointless questions if it meant avoiding Kurt.

The class began to draw to a close, and once Mme. Thompson gave them the usual last few seconds of class, Kurt turned to him and said, "Look, Blaine. We're going to have to get past... _whatever _this is," he gestured between them, "and get this stupid project done, okay?"

Blaine nodded. "That's fine," he said plainly. "The assignment doesn't seem that hard and I've got a film project to work on for this week, so we'll schedule dates for next week... okay?"

Kurt looked at him for a moment, seemingly studying his face. Finally, he nodded slowly and turned to pack his things.

Blaine wasn't sure if he was meant to hear when Kurt said softly, "I meant it when I said I didn't bite."

* * *

The rest of Blaine's week passed in a blur. No events out of the normal occurred, other than the announcement of the theatre majors' new musical (to which Blaine had laughed as he watched Artie pretend to gag) and the fact that his photography composition project for film was damn_ hard._

Blaine was thankful when the weekend rolled around.

On Saturday morning, he woke to the sound of the front door closing and his mother's voice drifting up from downstairs, "Have a nice day at work, honey!" quickly followed by the smell of eggs and bacon. Groggily, he slipped out of bed, ignoring the reflection of the all too familiar, wild curls in the mirror. He made it down the steps and slipped into his place at the breakfast counter, smiling as his mom slid a plate and glass of orange juice his way.

"So, any plans this weekend?" she prompted.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Mike invited me over for video games again tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes fondly and prodded, "Any plans with _girls?"_

He nearly choked on his piece of bacon. He coughed a bit into his fist, blinking the water from his eyes as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"You okay, sweetie?"

He nodded. "Um, yeah. Just... went down the wrong way," he lied. "As for your question, I- well, I'm going to the movies with Tina today-"

"Tina?" his mother asked, waggling her eyebrows. "Do tell, Blaine."

"Well-"

He sighed loudly in relief as the phone rang. His mother picked it up from its place, expression brightening. "It's Cooper," she mouthed to Blaine before answering, "Hi honey!"

Blaine wolfed down the remainder of his breakfast, downing his orange juice in one go before darting up the stairs to get dressed. By the time he was ready, his mother had already ended the call and was lounging in the sitting room with a cup of tea.

"Can you give me a ride to the movies?" Blaine asked.

"Sure. Let me grab my keys and on the ride over you can tell me all about this Tina girl, okay?"

He sighed; he should have known she wouldn't let it go that easily.

* * *

"Oh my god, it's Rachel Berry," Tina muttered, shaking her head, "and she's walking around like she _owns_ the place."

Artie shook his head disapprovingly. "Always does, always will. Let's just be glad we don't need the shine of the spotlight to live."

Blaine grabbed their extra large popcorn and his drink, glancing over his shoulder at the others as the three of them made their way toward the movie. "You know," he said, "no one ever told me exactly what the story behind this whole theatre-film rivalry is."

Artie snorted. "As if you didn't already realize, they all-"

"Yeah, I know, they think they're superior to just about every single living thing on the planet," Blaine laughed. "But, I don't know, there's just sort of... more tension, between them and us. I was just wondering if there was anything else to it."

Tina shrugged. "I mean, not really," she said. "I suppose a lot of it has to do with the fact that we're... not _overlooked_, per se, but more subdued. If you haven't already noticed, our work takes a lot more thought and precision... and they, well, they're just _out there."_

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, I noticed."

Tina continued, "And I guess a lot of it is just that we're already quiet enough without them constantly overshadowing everyone."

"I guess that makes sense," Blaine said. Tina rolled Artie up to the side of the row of chairs and took her seat. Blaine sat next to her and set the popcorn between them.

As the lights in the theatre dimmed out and the commercials began, Blaine let himself relax and watch the movies, knowing that, once the weekend ended, he was in for a long week with Kurt Hummel.

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter three! (Or two, depending on what you'd consider the Prologue.) Just in time for my completely unscheduled (no sarcasm intended) Wednesday updates. I wonder why the universe chooses this day of the week...

There's the usual thank you to _CAStonehouse, _the wonderful beta, for all of her hard work, and another to everyone who's given me feedback on the story. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Send your thoughts my way in a review, please!


	4. Scene Three

Scene Three

* * *

"Yoo-hoo, Jacob!" Rachel called, waving frantically as she spotted a familiar afro entering the lunch room. He scurried over so quickly that if Blaine had blinked, he would have missed it. "Where's my lunch?"

"My bad, Rachel," Jacob apologized. "I'll go get that now."

As Blaine watched the boy scurry off, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and shot Rachel a disdainful look. Thankfully, neither she nor Kurt had noticed him standing only a few feet off.

Kurt sighed. "Honestly, Rach," he chided, "You've got to stop promising that boy that you'll let him touch your boobs just so he'll cater to your every whim. Not only are you the biggest virgin in like, _ever, _but what happens when Finn finds out?"

She scoffed. "As long as you're not keeping secrets, you're a virgin too," she accused. "And trust me, Finn won't find out. He's always ten minutes late since he has to shower after gym. Even then I can make up a convincing lie. Finn's not the smartest."

"Whatever."

"Kurt!"

His head spun around instantly. "I- Blaine! Hi," he greeted, obviously shocked to see Blaine at _their_ lunch table, of all places. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes," Rachel added haughtily, "What _are _you doing here?"

Blaine's eyes narrowed. "I came to talk to you about our project," he said, "unless you're too busy for that, of course," he snapped.

Kurt pursed his lips, clearly hiding a retort. Instead, he settled for a calm, "No, I'm not. What do you want to talk about?"

Blaine slid into the seat opposite to Kurt and next to Rachel, who scooted away. "What days do you want to work on our project? We've only got the rest of the week left to do it." He paused and watched as Jacob Ben Israel slide Rachel her lunch tray, followed by a wink. The boy froze when he saw Blaine there and quickly turned away, muttering. Blaine thought he heard something along the lines of "blog" and "filmgeek" and "out of place." Ignoring it, he continued, "I thought I'd ask you now, since you weren't there at French this morning."

"Oh, right. Well, I've got rehearsal for the musical today, Wednesday, and Friday," Kurt said loftily. "You could stay and watch if you want. Other than that, my afternoons this week are completely free. I made sure not to plan anything, so we could get our work done."

"Alright," Blaine muttered. "I can't stay today, but..." he stopped to dig around in his bag, and after a minute of rummaging he produced a crinkled slip of paper, "here's my number. I figure we can text each other later and make some official plans?"

Kurt nodded. "Alright," he said. He quickly tapped the number into his phone, and judging by the soft vibrating in Blaine's back pocket, sent him a text.

"Blaine, you should probably go," Rachel spoke up, glaring at him. Even though Blaine was taller than she was, he still felt like he was being looked down on. "That is Finn's seat and he should be here any minute."

Blaine returned the glare and muttered, "Fine," as he got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stomping back to his usual table with Mike, right where he belonged.

* * *

The previous night Kurt and Blaine had agreed via-text message to meet in the school library after last period on Tuesday. It was open an hour after school to help upkeep the school's academic standards, Kurt had explained. As he entered the room, Blaine was surprised that he and Kurt weren't going to be the only ones there that afternoon; actually, there were several groups of students there.

He picked a random table and sat down, dropping his bag in the open chair next to him, and waited. He wanted to say he was shocked when Kurt ended up being a good half hour late for their session, but he wasn't. It was just the type of thing he would expect from him. _At least I had time to work on some Calculus homework_, he thought as he placed the papers back in his folder.

"I'm sorry," Kurt muttered halfheartedly as he took the seat across from Blaine.

"Your tone says otherwise," Blaine retorted. Kurt didn't respond.

There was a brief silence while Kurt pulled his French folder from his messenger bag. He dropped it on the desktop, causing a loud slap to echo throughout the library. Both Blaine and the librarian glared.

"Well," Kurt bit back, "I guess there's no use in pretending. Now, I wrote an outline for the thesis statement for the essay. I figured you could do the translations, since you need the practice." Before Blaine could shoot him another nasty look, he hastily added, "It's only the truth, Blaine. Anyways, you should work on that and I'll outline the rest of the essay. Once we're done we can both check over each other's work. You know, to make sure we did it correctly. Then we can write the essay together."

"Um, yeah. I guess that works," Blaine muttered. He hadn't expected Kurt to be this prepared; Blaine figured he would be the one doing most of the work, but he quickly realized that would have been near impossible considering Kurt's fluency in the subject. Still, he thought he would have put forth most of the effort, but clearly, that wasn't the case, and he had underestimated Kurt.

After digging out the project rubric and the other papers he needed, Blaine set to work. Due to the fact that they were early off in the school year, the translations were relatively easy. Still, however, Blaine struggled with some of them. Apparently it was obvious, as Kurt took a quick glance at his paper and gave him the correct translation every time his brow knit in concentration.

"So," Blaine said after fifteen minutes of working. Though Kurt wasn't the ideal person, he really needed a quick break from French translations to have an actual conversation. "Why weren't you there this morning? At French?"

Kurt raised and eyebrow. He stopped writing and he looked at Blaine through half-lidded eyes, his eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Blaine's chest clinched painfully. That one single look had sent one word coursing through his mind: _attractive._

"Didn't think you cared," Kurt said, snapping Blaine out of his thoughts. He proceeded, "To answer your question, though, my alarm went off later than it was supposed to. Of course then I have to shower and moisturize, which adds another forty-five minutes to the routine."

Blaine shook his head and put his elbows on the tabletop, resting his chin in his hands. "Gosh, Kurt," he muttered, "you're so..."

"Gay?" Kurt guessed.

Blaine was taken aback by the word. He looked at Kurt, only to find that his face had fallen and he looked ready to snap his neck. Blaine shook his head and stammered, "I- no! No. I was going to say conceited or stuck up, not... not _gay._"

"Hm." Kurt's eyes were trained steadily on his paper. "Well, excuse me if caring about my skin is too conceited for you."

They didn't speak another word to each other for the remainder of the hour. Finally the librarian called for everyone to leave so she could close up. The two boys gathered their papers and put everything away, stealing glances at each other while they did, the same way they had for the thirty or so minutes that passed after their spout.

"You're coming to rehearsal tomorrow, aren't you?" Kurt questioned.

"I guess so," Blaine replied. "The library won't be open then though, will it?"

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "I'd offer for it to be at my place, but my dad and my step-mom will both be working. Finn's riding home with his friend, Puck."

Blaine sighed internally; this meant it was going to have to be at his house, and his mother and father were always nagging him about "being a good host," meaning he would have to bite his tongue if Kurt said or did anything that offended him, which wouldn't be an easy task. "We'll work on it at my house, I guess. My mom can pick us up."

Kurt nodded, slipping his phone out of his pocket when it buzzed. "My ride is here," he said. "I'll see you later, Blaine."

Blaine flashed the librarian a smile as he walked out and into the parking lot. It took only a minute to spot his mom's shiny silver car parked in one of the first few spaces. He walked over and climbed in, taking a moment to watch as Kurt slipped into his father's red truck and drove off.

_See you later, _he added silently.

* * *

"Cooper called today."

Blaine looked up from his dinner, pausing midway through cutting his steak. "And?" Cooper usually called everyday, though Blaine rarely ever got a chance with him on the phone. His mother was the one usually talking to him, and when she wasn't she was transferring the calls to his dad's office.

"He says he's going to catch a flight here for Thanksgiving," she beamed. She took a sip of her drink and asked, "Isn't that great?"

"Yeah," Blaine said with a small, unconvincing smile. He tried to keep the sarcasm from dripping out of his voice. While he loved his big brother, he liked the long distance now that they left Coop back in California. It meant that it was only him for his parents to pay attention to, only him for his mom to coddle over, and only him for his father to watch football with while his mom made butterscotch cookies that Cooper couldn't hog.

"So, how did your studying go today?"

Blaine swallowed his food and shrugged. "Good. We still have a lot to get done. By the way, he's going to have to come over here on Wednesday, since the library closes and he has rehearsal," he ventured.

She nodded. "That's fine with me, you know I'm never too busy," she assured. The conversation was replaced shortly by the sound of Blaine's knife scraping against his plate as he cut his steak, until Mrs. Anderson asked, "Was he the boy who got into the red truck?"

"Yeah," Blaine answered. "Why?"

She waved her hand in a vague gesture. "Nothing. He just seemed a bit fruity, that's all. His clothes were gorgeous, though. I'd hire him as a fashion consultant any day!"

Blaine was silent. _Fruity, _the word echoed in his head, and another voice that sounded suspiciously like Kurt repeated, _Gay._

He pushed his chair back abruptly and stood, grabbing his plate. "I've got some other homework to work on," he excused. "Call me down when dad gets home. That is, unless he gets back at midnight again. Then you can spare me the sleep."

After dropping his dirty plates off in the kitchen sink, he climbed the stairs and walked down the hall into his bedroom. Flopping down on his bed with his book bag, he pulled out the Calculus pages he had been working on earlier and buried himself in his homework. At least this way he could keep his mind off of other things, like Cooper's impending visit and what he was supposed to do about Kurt.

* * *

**A/N:** Updates! This was actually supposed to get to all of you yesterday but I ended up at a friend's place, so I actually kinda kept up with the Wednesday update things. I don't even know why I'm talking about this.

As usual, _CAStonehouse_ is wonderful and amazing and super fast and totally awesome and deserves all of the thanks! And you guys, too! All of this positive support is awesome.

Don't forget to review!


	5. Scene Four

Scene Four

* * *

Wednesday breezed by surprisingly fast. Blaine easily completed a film analysis and agreed to meet with Artie and Tina for another movie on Saturday, hardly paid any attention to the French lesson (and ended up sneaking a peak at Kurt's paper for the last few answers for the assignment), and, to his surprise, aced his Geography pop-quiz. He hadn't even had time to think about that afternoon until he was pushing against the crowd rushing toward the buses in a fight to get to the auditorium.

He found that he was actually looking forward to watching rehearsal; the last time he watched a live performance was years ago, back when Cooper starred in Peter Pan when he was sixteen. As a little kid, Blaine was awed. Thinking back on it now, though, he knew his reaction would probably be the same at his current age.

Blaine was barely a step into the auditorium when Rachel screeched, "What is _he _doing here? Kurt!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "If you hadn't been barking at the rest of us to get _your _props together, maybe I would've had the time to explain to you that Blaine and I are working on our French project at his house tonight," he huffed, tucking his script under his arm and turning to face Blaine. He motioned to the first row of seats and called, "You can sit there and watch."

With a nod, Blaine walked down the aisle and took his seat at the end of the row, discarding his things in the seat beside him. Rachel gaped.

"I - but - he'll see the show!"

"No, he won't," Kurt countered. Judging by his tired expression, he seemed to be used to these arguments. "We're only blocking today and running through A Boy Like That, since Mrs. Corcoran isn't here."

"But I'm her biological daughter, so that means-"

"Oh, can it Man Hands and let's get this show on the road," Santana interrupted. With a grumble, the short brunette stalked off for her script and the director's book.

Blaine didn't pay attention to the rehearsal, despite his previous excitement. Instead, he opted to pull out some homework for another class and work on that while he waited. Occasionally he would stop to look up as Santana and Rachel, or Kurt and Rachel, started to bicker, and couldn't help but note that while the film students all got along fine, it appeared that the theatre majors were in a constant battle for the spotlight.

Finally, after much arguing, the group managed to block the first half of the musical. Kurt joined him in the front as Santana and Rachel took the stage. After looking at Blaine's things piled in the seat next to him, Kurt gingerly removed them and set them down on the carpet before sitting.

"Was that really necessary?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe."

He scoffed, "You're ridiculous."

"Actually, my name is Kurt," the other replied coyly.

Blaine sighed in defeat, looking back up at the stage where the two girls were setting up. "You're all done, right? My mom's probably waiting," he said.

"No. You've got to stay and see this; however irritating they can be, Rachel and Santana are amazing."

"Yeah, if they can stop fighting for a second and sing," Blaine retorted.

Kurt laughed at this, and Blaine had to force his eyes back to the stage to stage to prevent himself from watching his eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners. He mentally scolded himself, _No. Kurt Hummel is egoistical, conceited, but not cute. Girls are cute. You aren't gay_,_but if you were-_

He coughed loudly, as if it were possible for someone to hear his thoughts, thankful that the music had started up at that time so he could steer his thinking in another direction.

Kurt wasn't lying when he said the girls were amazing, and by the end of the song he was clapping loudly. On their way out to the parking lot, Blaine said, "They make a fantastic Maria and Anita. Congrats to whoever cast them."

"Mrs. Corcoran does everything. She's a miracle worker," Kurt explained. "I take it you're familiar with West Side Story?" he guessed. Blaine nodded.

"Yeah. I watched the film adaptation a couple of years ago."

The two climbed into the back seat of Mrs. Anderson's car. Kurt made the standard introductions with his mom, who insisted that Kurt call him Laura. The two of them fell into a comfortable chatter once Kurt spotted her designer handbag and Blaine watched the scenery as they drove toward the house.

* * *

The boys were about fifteen minutes into their work when a soft knock came, followed by Mrs. Anderson nudging her way through the half-open door with a plate of cookies in hand. She grinned at the boys and said, "Butterscotch, an Anderson favorite," while setting down the cookies on the bedside table.

"Thank you." Kurt grinned, reaching across Blaine to grab for one of the desserts. Blaine cringed at the sound of crinkling papers.

"It's no problem."

Kurt bit into the cookie. After only a second or so of chewing, he squealed, "Oh my gosh! These are_ delicious," _he gushed. "You _have_ to get me the recipe."

With a laugh, Laura nodded. "I'll be sure to get it to your mother. Now, I've got to go start on dinner. You two get back to working." She left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Blaine glanced over at Kurt, whose expression, previously sunny and bright, had fallen considerably.

It was almost strange, seeing such a sad look on Kurt's face. It wasn't like they were super close or anything even remotely like that, but Blaine was so used to seeing the other boy with a smile, a smirk, or even a grimace, but never something _sad. _Curiously, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Kurt laughed dryly. "Oh, what, suddenly you care?"

The comment dug under his skin. He didn't particularly like Kurt Hummel, but Blaine was an understanding person. He liked helping. He liked being _that_ person, the person who could work you through your problems and turn your life around. In some ways it was a reminder that there were a lot of people out there with bigger problems of his own, another reason he could ignore his issues in favor of helping someone else. And the fact that Kurt didn't think he at least _cared _bothered him.

Blaine frowned. "I know we don't get along, Kurt. Hell, you annoy the living crap out of me most days. Especially when you refuse to stop tapping your pencil in French when I ask nicely, or when you and your theatre buddies cut everyone else in the lunch line, or when you constantly ridicule my hair-"

"Is this supposed to help? Because it isn't."

Blaine sighed. "The point being, Kurt, I know we're not exactly friends. But I still care, alright?"

Kurt pursed his lips and eyed Blaine skeptically. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, forced his eyes back on the paper and muttered, "Alright."

"So," Blaine ventured hesitantly. Kurt had picked up his pen again and was continuing his outline. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong? You don't have to, of course. I don't want you to feel pressured into telling me anything, or-"

With a chuckle, Kurt interrupted, "Quit rambling, Blaine, and maybe I'll get the chance to tell you." Blaine nodded, lips clamped tightly together, and after another laugh Kurt continued, "When your mom said she'd get the cookie recipe to my mom, I... My mother died when I was seven. I've moved on, but there are moments, like that, where it just hits a little close to home."

"I... wow. I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said. He reached across the bed to place a hand on Kurt's shoulder. The other boy tensed slightly, but after a second accepted the comfort.

"Thanks, Blaine." He smiled, and once again Blaine was taken aback by the way he reacted to it, only one word coming to mind: _beautiful. _Thankfully he was saved from further embarrassing thoughts as Kurt glanced over at his page and said, "Now hurry up with those translations. We don't have all day."

* * *

Friday came faster than expected. There hadn't been a need for another meeting after Wednesday afternoon, as he and Kurt had completed all of the work and were confident with everything they'd done by the time Mr. Hummel had arrived to pick up his son. When the second period bell rang, Blaine was the first out of the room, already eager to put the French project behind him.

When he made it to French class Blaine settled into his seat, watching the doorway for Kurt, who finally entered only seconds before the tardy bell rang. They sat in silence as the other pairs were called up to present.

When it was finally their turn, their presentation went off without a hitch and Blaine was confident that they had aced it. Both boys returned to their seats with a smile.

"Well, I'm certainly impressed," Mme. Thompson said once the last couple had finished and were returning to their seats. "For one of the year's first major projects, you all did exceptionally well," her eyes flickered briefly to where Kurt and Blaine sat. He was sure her smile got the slightest bit wider. "As usual, you all take the last few minutes of class to yourself. Expect your grades sometime early next week."

Kurt turned to Blaine with a grin. "Considering we did all of the work in only two study sessions, that was quite impressive. You're a harder worker than I thought, Blaine Anderson."

He couldn't help but feel a bit giddy with the compliment. Playfully, he retorted, "I can say the same about you, Kurt. You _did _do most of the planning, after all."

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly at the banter. Blaine noted the evident lack of tension in the air between them and suddenly felt extremely accomplished; in only a span of two or three days, they had gone from snappy remarks to coy conversations. But, at the same time, Blaine couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved that his days with Kurt Hummel were, for the most part, over. He didn't know how much more teasing and odd looks from Artie he could take.

The bell rang. Kurt slipped his folder inside his bag and said, "Well, Blaine. This didn't go as badly as I thought, all social standings considered." He stood and grabbed his bag. "Bye."

Blaine waved, watching Kurt leave before gathering his own things, knowing that they would be going back to their usual clipped conversations within a week or so, no matter what had happened between them. While they both knew they had the potential of being good friends, Blaine was new and he couldn't risk anything and Kurt had his own status quo to abide by. It was just a one-time thing.

But somewhere, deep down in the back of his mind, Blaine had a niggling feeling that his days with Kurt Hummel weren't quite over yet.

* * *

**A/N: **Only a day late! ;) Um, yeah, really not much to say today, but the standard thanks for your support! Seriously, all of the alerts and favorites and reviews are outstanding.

As usual, _CAStonehouse,_ my lovely beta tumblr BFF fraternal twin separated at birth, is to thank for removing the copious amounts of spelling and other mistakes that I make. Thanks to her the fic is readable and we all know that's important.

Don't forget to send your thoughts, the good, bad, and helpful, in a review!


	6. Scene Five

Scene Five

* * *

By the time Thanksgiving came around, all thoughts of Kurt were pushed to the back of Blaine's mind.

The Andersons jumped at every chance they got to have a family dinner. Unfortunately, with Mr. Anderson's work schedule, that usually only meant that they got together on holidays - and even then it was only Thanksgiving and Christmas. So, naturally, Blaine's mother did everything she could to make these dinners perfect, and since Blaine was the only other person in the house most of the time, she made him help out.

Between helping his mom decorate, plan, and preparing the guest room for Cooper (he even had to go so far as to get Cooper's favorite, incredibly expensive bed sheets), Blaine didn't have the time to do anything for himself. Before he knew it they were picking up his brother from the airport on Wednesday afternoon.

He didn't have the chance to say so much as "hi" before his mom had gathered Cooper into a bone-crushing embrace. "I missed you _so_much, honey," she cooed.

"Laura," Cooper said urgently, "I can't have the paparazzi catch you cuddling me." Blaine rolled his eyes and scoffed, which led to his brother finally noticing his presence. Instead of a hug or a "hey, little bro," he shoved his luggage into Blaine's arms. "Here, Squirt, carry my luggage."

Blaine grunted under the weight of the bag and glared.

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion with his mother and father absorbing every bit of Cooper's attention. Even when they all sat down for Thanksgiving dinner, most of the conversation was directed at his brother.

That was, until his mother asked him, "How's Tina?"

"Um," Blaine said, "she's... uh, she's good."

Cooper raised an eyebrow. "Tina?"

"She's a girl Blaine's been to the movies with a couple of times," his mother explained. "He refuses to bring her home or talk about her at all, no matter how much I pester him. I take it that your relationship with her is still going strong then, Blaine?"

Blaine shifted awkwardly under her stare. "We aren't exactly dating," he mumbled. He hesitated before adding a quiet, "yet."

"Oh?" his father said. "So you're interested?"

"I - uh - sure. I mean, yeah. Why not?"

He glanced across the table to see Cooper eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, Coop's staying for a few weeks," his father supplied. "He could probably help you out a bit in the _lady department_."

Blaine resisted the urge to look utterly horrified at the idea. He didn't want to date Tina - not that she wasn't nice or pretty, but she was one of his best friends, and he just wasn't attracted to her.

But those were the least of his worries.

"Wait, you're staying?" he asked Cooper.

"Yup," he said. "I haven't been booked in a while and my funds are a bit, uh, depleted. I'm going to teach a master class after school up at McKinley, though. I figured it would be nice for the kids there to work with a celebrity."

_You're hardly a celebrity, _Blaine thought.

"Which also means you'll be staying and riding home with him to save me the trouble," Mrs. Anderson added.

As the conversation between his family turned, Blaine could only sit back, sigh, and mutter, "Perfect."

* * *

"Hey, Squirt. How was school?"

Blaine frowned as Cooper swung and arm around his shoulder and forced him against his side. "Don't call me that," he said. "It was good. I got picked to film the school play in December."

"Whoa, bud, I didn't ask for your life story. Now come on, the auditorium is this way. Let's go watch me be awesome."

"I wonder why we ever left you back in California," Blaine grumbled. Cooper either didn't hear him or chose not to respond, because he didn't reply.

When they finally arrived, Cooper threw open the doors dramatically, causing Blaine to step into the shadows from secondhand embarrassment.

A chorus of whispers erupted among the students in the auditorium. When Blaine finally made his way inside, he groaned when he saw who was there. "You're teaching the theatre kids?"

"Well, duh! I'm a triple threat," Cooper said.

Sighing, Blaine shuffled over to the seat he sat in last time and flopped down dramatically. For once he was actually disappointed in the lack of homework; it meant he wouldn't have anything to do while Cooper taught. Hopefully the bickering among the theatre kids would provide some form of entertainment.

Cooper had other ideas.

"Get up here, Squirt! I'm not going to let you sit around."

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose in attempt to stop his forming migraine. Slowly, he got out of his seat and joined the group on the stage. He could feel Rachel glaring from across the circle.

"Now that Blaine's joined us, let's get started!"

He tried his best to zone out and dull the loud sound of his brother "intensely" teaching. He traced patterns on the stage floor, wondering how some of the people in the group were furiously taking notes and nodding along in agreement. He was almost surprised to see that Kurt was one of those people; he seemed smarter than that.

Blaine blushed when Kurt caught his eye and waved. He almost felt bad for picking up where they left off before the project and ignoring Kurt.

Just as he made to wave back, Cooper yelled, "Pay attention, Squirt!"

"_Don't_ call me that!"

Even Blaine was surprised by his shout.

He clamped a hand over his mouth and ducked his head to avoid the stares everyone was giving him. After a few awkward, tense, silent moments he stood and hurried into the wings, away from everyone else.

With a loud sigh he sat down on a stool and glared at the ground, hugging his arms around himself. When he heard footsteps approaching moments later, he looked up, expecting it to be Cooper.

It was Kurt.

He smiled softly. Blaine watched, dumbfounded, as Kurt pulled up a stool beside him and sat down. For a while, it was just Blaine staring in shock.

Finally, Kurt said, "Didn't expect me, huh?"

"N-no," Blaine muttered. "We aren't exactly friends."

"No," Kurt admitted. He then added in a quiet voice, "but that doesn't mean I don't care."

Blaine sucked in his bottom lip and trained his eyes on the ground. He didn't even know how to process the situation, and though he knew it would've ended in an angry dispute, he almost wished it would've been Cooper to follow after him. At least he would have had something to say then.

"You don't have to tell me about it," Kurt continued, "I just figured after what you did for me before, that I could at least try to return the favor."

"Well thank you," Blaine finally spoke. He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly as he added, "but I don't really want to talk about it."

"Hummel!" Cooper's voice drifted in from the stage. "Get back out here!"

With a soft sigh, Kurt jumped down from his seat, said a quick goodbye, and walked back out onto the stage.

And Blaine was alone again.

* * *

The car ride home was awkward.

For the most part, it passed in tense silence. Blaine scooted as far away from Cooper as possible which meant he was pressed up against the passenger side door, staring out of the window to avoid the occasional glances from his big brother. Finally, as they turned off of the main road and into the beginnings of their neighborhood, Cooper spoke.

But he wasn't apologizing.

"Do you like that boy?"

"_What?_"

"I said, do you like that boy? The Hummel boy?"

"I - no!" Blaine said. "I, er, like girls. I'm straight. Besides, even if I were gay," he cringed at the unsteady way the word came out of his mouth, "I don't know if he is, um, gay either."

Cooper laughed. "Please! He's practically got a neon rainbow sign flashing above his perfectly coiffed hair," he snorted, "and for the first half of class he was looking at me like I was Jesus. You wouldn't know that, though; you were staring at the floor the whole time. When you weren't staring at him, that is."

"I was _not _staring at him."

"Alright then," Cooper said. "How about the way he chased after you?"

"He _chased after me _because he's a decent person."

"So you're not attracted to him in any way_?"_

Cooper pulled into the driveway. Blaine hesitated before answering with an unconvincing, "N-no."

"You stammer when you lie."

"_No,"_ Blaine repeated firmly. He grabbed his bag and got out of the car, nearly sprinting to the front door to avoid the conversation.

He could hear Cooper's laugh as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

**A/N:** Oops, a little later than expected (and shorter). Sorry! This is what happens when I leave the house. Blame life.

For those of you who didn't know, I was out of town and without my computer for a week so these excuses are legit. And of course it had to go through beta-ing and whatnot so yeah, don't kill me! I already got _someone _who told me there would be consequences if there wasn't an update soon. *side eyes* We should be back to Wednesday updates now!

Anyways, the usual thanks to _CAStonehouse,_ especially for putting up with me this chapter. Apparently my fingers don't think as I'm trying to spit out a chapter in ten minutes.

Alright? Alright. Read and review, m'dears!


	7. Scene Six

Scene Six

* * *

"I'll text you the notes later tonight."

Mike nodded, scooped up his binder and stood. "Alright. I'd better get to dance practice now. See ya."

Blaine nodded and waved, watching his friend go before hastily throwing all of his Geography papers in his bag and haphazardly slung his backpack over his shoulder. The minute he stepped out of the classroom Cooper had an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, lil' bro," he greeted. Blaine noted the absence of the name _Squirt._

"I can walk myself to the auditorium, Coop," Blaine said.

"Doesn't mean you will," Cooper grinned. As they passed a group of girls (Blaine could hear one whisper, "Isn't that the guy from the commercial?"), Cooper cast them a saucy wink. He groaned.

"Do you really have to do that?"

"Yes."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Whatever. By the way, I'm not doing the master class today. Or ever again."

"Aw, c'mon!" Cooper protested.

"No," Blaine repeated, "Don't think our issues are resolved yet, Cooper. You didn't even apologize." He wiggled away from his brother's arm, sighing. "Plus I've got a lot of homework to do. Mr. Conners gave us a three page English report to finish overnight and I've got just as much Calculus."

He glanced over at his brother to see his response, but, as per usual, he wasn't listening and was already pushing through the auditorium doors. With a sigh, Blaine followed after and took his usual seat.

He reached into his bag and untangled his iPod headphones, plugging them in to drown out the sounds so he could focus on his paper. Once his notebook and pen were in hand, he found that slipping into his usual habit of focusing on his work wasn't difficult at all. The music seemed to fuel his writing and before he knew it he managed to scribble down two out of three pages of his essay.

Smiling lightly at his progress, he reached for his bag to pull out a snack. Someone grabbed his wrist.

Glancing up, he noticed Cooper hovering over him and plucked out his headphones.

"Hm?"

"We're short a person," Cooper explained. "Mind helping out?"

Blaine considered saying, _And why should I help you? _but instead said, "I've got my essay-"

"Blaine," his brother insisted.

With a huff, Blaine muttered, "Fine," and allowed Cooper to lead him up the stage stairs. It wasn't until he saw who he was working with did he let out a groan.

"Why _them?"_he whispered. Cooper shrugged, but he was smirking.

"They're the only group missing someone."

Cooper gave Blaine a light shove and he stumbled forward. Rachel eyed him distastefully.

"What are _you_doing here?"

"I heard you guys needed another person," Cooper said.

Rachel's eyebrows furrowed. "With all due respect, Mr. Anderson, can your brother even act?"

"Find out for yourself."

With that, Blaine's brother left to supervise the other groups and Blaine was left to face Rachel, Santana, Finn, and Kurt. Three out of the four looked like they were about to puke.

Kurt, however, cast him a bright smile before turning to face the others.

"So, should we assign parts?"

Rachel responded immediately, "Dibs on the female lead!"

"Can I be the murder?" Santana asked.

Kurt nodded and tossed the two the scripts highlighted with their parts. He turned to Finn and Blaine.

"So, who wants to be the sheriff? I'm playing the old woman and nothing can stop me."

Blaine shrugged. "I'll be the sheriff?"

"No, I want to be the sheriff," Finn protested. "I'm the actor."

Kurt's eyebrow rose at his step-brother's forwardness and he looked to Blaine, who shrugged halfheartedly. Hesitantly, Kurt handed Finn the script and held out the remaining one for Blaine.

"Wait, I'm the dead guy?" Blaine asked, glancing at the page.

"Yes. It's quite fitting actually, considering you're the odd man out," Rachel said.

Kurt took a deep breath. "Come on guys, let's play nice." His friends didn't look happy, but nevertheless mumbled their consent, allowing them to begin.

Blaine smiled smugly when he saw the brief flashes of shock in his group member's eyes as they realized that he wasn't a bad actor. As a kid Blaine had dipped his feet into community theatre (before Cooper stole the spotlight and cast him into the shadows) and he did spend a lot of time watching and analyzing movies; he was proud to say he knew some things.

It wasn't until Rachel and Finn's characters got to the crime scene when Cooper showed up, watching Rachel with her finger thrust in front of Finn's face as she screeched her lines. Cooper nodded enthusiastically.

When it came turn for Finn to talk, however, Cooper shook his head. "Pointing, Finn! Remember: point, talk loud, occasionally ignore your partners, and Broadway is dead. Also, Blaine, poke your tongue out of your mouth. You don't look dead."

Blaine's lip curled and he lolled his tongue out to the side. Somewhere above him, Kurt grumbled something along the lines of, "Broadway is not dead, that's ridiculous."

They made it a few more pages into the script before Cooper was calling for everyone to pack up and head out. Blaine quietly excused himself from the others and hopped off of the stage.

As he packed his English notebook and notes back into his bag, he noticed some shuffling off to his side, only to look up and find Kurt closing up his bag a row in front of him. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"What are your things doing here?" he asked.

Kurt glanced up. He shrugged. "I was late and didn't have time to put it backstage," he answered, lips curling up into a smirk. "It's not like I'm stalking you or anything."

Blaine laughed. "I would hope not."

Kurt's smile faltered and for a brief moment all Blaine could think about was _getting that smile back _and _oh no what did I do? _But just as quickly as it had slipped, Kurt was smiling again as he said, "You know, I really would like to be friends, Blaine."

Blaine paused, only hesitating for a second to reply, "I do, too. But..."

"But?" Kurt prompted.

"As much as, uh, we've gotten through our differences... I just don't see it happening, Kurt. Your friends want to tear me apart and my friends want to do the same to yours."

Kurt's smile disappeared entirely. "I know," he muttered. "I just..." he trailed off, looking away and biting his lip. "Never mind. We'll figure something out? Maybe?"

Blaine's stomach swooped at the hopefulness in the other's tone. He fiddled with the strap of his bag and nodded.

"Maybe," he agreed.

* * *

"Kurt asked you to be friends."

Blaine shot Cooper a curious look. "Yeah," he said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his sweater. "What's your point?"

"My _point_," Cooper said as he slid into the driver's seat of the car. He waited until Blaine climbed in the passenger's side before continuing, "is that you said no."

"Why were you watching us?" Blaine questioned.

"You're avoiding the question."

Blaine sighed. "Like I said, our friends want to tear each other apart. It just wouldn't work," he said, shrugging his shoulders once and glancing out of the car window. Cooper snorted.

"You and I both know that that is a bullshit answer."

"God, Cooper, why do you even _care?_" Blaine snapped. He gripped the car's doorframe tightly. Couldn't Cooper just drop it, or at least care about something aside from Blaine's love - no, _friendship_ - life?

"I know you're mad at me, Squirt," Blaine cringed at the return of his nickname. "I mean Blaine," Cooper quickly corrected, his eyes darting back to the road after looking apologetically toward his brother. "As I was saying, I know we're not on the best of terms right now and _why_ is beyond me because I'm just trying to be an awesome bro-"

"Cooper," Blaine warned.

"Whatever," his brother said dismissively. "But Blaine, your heart eyes are worse than they were yesterday. And yes, you _do _have heart eyes," he insisted. "I don't see why you won't be friends with the poor kid."

"Because-"

"If you're going give me that same excuse again, shut up and listen."

Blaine sighed.

"The problem is," Cooper continued, "Kurt's more obvious than you are, Blaine. He _likes _you. And I never thought you were the type to let a social status stand in your way."

* * *

_Beep._

Blaine looked up from his laptop. Closing it and setting it down on the bed, he reached over his mountain of papers and grabbed his cellphone.

_From: Mike_

_Hey!_

_To: Mike_

_Hey. Sorry I forgot to send the notes... got distracted doing my English essay._

_From: Mike_

_Nah, it's alright. I was actually texting you about this weekend. Wanna hang out?_

_To: Mike_

_Sure, when?_

_From: Mike_

_Whenever works with me. Just can't hang Sunday night, mom's book club is coming over._

_To: Mike_

_Alright. Saturday night?_

_From: Mike_

_Yup._

Blaine grabbed his calendar from his bedside table and made a quick note. Afterward he sighed and looked back at his abandoned laptop, figuring should try to get his homework finished before supper. He grabbed his computer and settled it back in his lap, churning out a few more paragraphs before his phone beeped again. Expecting it to be Mike, he grabbed it.

It was not Mike.

_From: Kurt_

_I forgot I had your number in here. Hi._

_To: Kurt_

_Oh. Hi._

_From: Kurt_

_Don't sound so thrilled._

_To: Kurt_

_Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you to text._

_From: Kurt_

_I saw your number lying around in my contacts and figured we could talk about the whole "friends" thing?_

_To: Mike_

_I just need some time to think... if that's okay?_

His phone didn't sound for another few minutes, during which Blaine finally managed to finish up his rough draft for English. He rustled through a few of his homework papers, searching for his Calculus folder, before his phone beeped again.

_From: Mike_

_What?_

Blaine stared at the screen in confusion before he saw the contact at the top.

_To: Mike_

_Ugh, that was meant for Kurt._

_From: Mike._

_Kurt? As in, Kurt Hummel? Theatre major?_

_To: Mike_

_Long story. I'll tell you about it at lunch tomorrow._

_His screen flashed with an incoming text._

_From: Kurt_

_I'm sorry, was that too forward?_

_To: Kurt_

_No, sorry. Just... can I have some time to think about it?_

_From: Kurt_

_Take your time, Blaine. :)_

Before he could type out a quick thanks his mother called up the stairs, "Dinner is ready, boys!" He let out a soft sigh and chucked his phone onto the mattress before heading downstairs.

At least they were having spaghetti.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry if this is one Wednesday later than expected, I just couldn't get the chapter to you guys that fast! But, on the bright side, this is much better than the first version of this chapter I wrote. Quality over speed, anyone?

Anyways, on the topic of updates, I'm going to try very hard to stick to my Wednesday updates, but if I don't make it I'm terribly sorry. Not every week is a writing week, sadly.

Thank you Caitlin (CAStonehouse) for the beta-ing (and motivation)! Thanks to everyone else, too, for favoriting/following/reviewing/reading. You're all sweethearts.

Thoughts? xox


	8. Scene Seven

Scene Seven

* * *

Despite the looming decisions and problems on his plate, Blaine's week improved significantly as the days wore on.

Not only did he come to find that his grades were higher than they had ever been before (nothing lower than a 95 - his hard work was paying off), but his homework amount had plummeted to the point where he almost felt _bored _at home, with nothing more than a page of French or a film paper to work on while he waited for dinner. Everything had gone somewhat quiet - something he wasn't used to since Cooper arrived.

However, not having work also meant no excusing himself from participating in Cooper's class and, unfortunately, his brother had gone right back to his pushy, insistent self.

It seemed that almost every chance Cooper got, he put him with Kurt and his friends, always casting that knowing smirk over his shoulder as he sauntered away. Blaine could hear his laughter echoing inside his head.

And, unfortunately for him, Blaine wasn't the only one unhappy with the arrangements. While Kurt was fine with him being around (and, if Blaine looked closely enough, Kurt's smile would get just a bit wider when he saw Cooper dragging Blaine over) and Santana was only mildly annoyed by his presence (like she was with everyone), Rachel and Finn continued to make it worse, with rude comments like, "Get out of the way, _I'm _the actor here," and "Blaine, I wouldn't even think you were related to Cooper. Honestly, did you get _any _goodacting genes?" He brushed the comments aside; after all, what did he expect?

Kurt was a different story.

Blaine honestly thought the other boy was more upset with the remarks than he was. Kurt would either reply through gritted teeth, "Let's get through this, okay?" or snap out a sharp, "You're the one pointing like you're running for president, Rachel." Blaine figured Kurt was trying everything he could to have them at least tolerate each other, so that they would have some chance at being friends. It made Blaine's stomach twist painfully when he thought about just how much Kurt was willing to try.

And it was obvious that he wanted to be Blaine's friend _a lot._

On Thursday, when Santana rushed from the auditorium with no explanation after receiving a text and Cooper told them to partner up for a mirroring game, Kurt had rushed up to him and asked, with pink cheeks, "Care to be my partner?" Blaine accepted.

Blaine didn't know whether or not to be surprised when the exercise turned out to be incredibly fun. For someone Blaine thought to be uptight, snooty, and conceited, Kurt was a bit of a dork. Blaine wasn't complaining, though. He liked Star Wars battles; pretending to hold the light saber meant he didn't have to point.

Cooper had plenty to say the ride home that day.

It wasn't like Blaine was completely ungrateful for Cooper wanting the best for him, but his involvement in Blaine's personal life was aggravating. "I appreciate it Coop, but back off," he said after another push at his sexuality. "Give me some space and meanwhile, try to care about other things. Like the fact I'm top of my class in film."

Cooper didn't congratulate him.

Finally, though, it was Friday.

He slipped through the auditorium doors, rolling his eyes as Cooper followed behind him, still ranting endlessly about never being called back for some sci-fi thriller he auditioned for the year before. He tossed his things in his usual seat, his stomach doing a small somersault when he noticed Kurt's things in the chair right next to it, something that had become a regular occurrence since Tuesday.

He climbed up the stairs and onto the stage and sat. Kurt smiled at him from the other side of the circle.

Cooper only spoke for a few minutes before deciding that they deserved a day off. Blaine watched as Rachel immediately engaged Kurt in conversation and cast Blaine a haughty look. He rolled his eyes, sat back, and played a game of Angry Birds on his phone, but there was a soft tugging in his gut to go over and talk to Kurt. It felt like routine now, and it was a routine, however hard for him to admit, that he liked.

Too soon, Cooper was calling for dismissal, saying goodbye and handing out business cards as everyone left. Blaine made his way over to his seat to get his stuff.

Kurt was waiting for him there.

"Hey, Blaine," he said. "What were you playing?"

Blaine blinked. "Uh, what?"

"On your phone," Kurt said. "Or were you texting? Sorry, I'm just curious."

"Oh," Blaine mumbled, grabbing his bag from the chair. "Angry Birds. I was playing Angry Birds."

Kurt smiled. "I love Angry Birds. Sorry I didn't come over and talk to you; Rachel had me cornered and wouldn't stop talking about Barbara Streisand. Honestly, I'm surprised Finn didn't drag her off. He kept eyeing her boobs the whole time."

Blaine smiled and shook his head. "Your friends are weird."

"Tell me about it," Kurt scoffed. His fingers found the strap of his bag and nervously twisted the fabric around between them. "So, Blaine..."

"Yes."

"I - what?"

"I'll be your friend."

Blaine didn't know when he'd finally decided, but when he thought about it, he didn't even know why it had to be a decision in the first place. Friendship doesn't need to be asked of, it just _happens._And, as much as it pained him to say it, Cooper was right. Social standings didn't need to have anything to do with it.

Kurt was smiling now. "Oh. Alright, then. I'm glad," he said. He glanced toward the doors. "My dad's probably waiting, I should go. Thanks, Blaine."

He leaned in for a quick embrace before scurrying away.

Blaine's skin tingled from the contact for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Wait, why's Cooper coming?"

"We're dropping him off at the airport after we take you to Mike's. Didn't I tell you over dinner last night?"

"No," Blaine muttered, though he honestly wouldn't know; he tuned out on dinner conversations on more than one occasion. "I didn't know he was leaving already."

"Don't worry," his mother said brightly, "he'll be back for New Years! Isn't that great?"

Cooper nudged Blaine as he climbed into the back seat and Blaine rolled his eyes, replying with a sarcastic, "Yeah. Awesome."

The drive to Mike's house was short and quiet. Cooper turned the radio station to an 80s station and Blaine, while quietly humming along to Duran Duran's _Hungry Like the Wolf, _listened to his family talk about plans for a New Years party and how they wished Cooper could join them for Christmas. Finally, his mother turned down the familiar street and the car crawled to a stop as his mom parked on the side of the road, just outside of the Changs' house.

"Why don't you walk him up, Coop?" his mother suggested. "Say your goodbyes."

Cooper nodded and followed behind Blaine up the walkway. They stopped on the doorstep, and with a small laugh, Cooper said, "You aren't going to miss me, are you?"

And, well, Blaine wasn't going to lie.

"Not really."

Despite that, Cooper smiled. "Don't worry, I'll miss me for the both of us," he said, and then seriously added, "It wasn't the best week, Blaine, but... I meant it when I said you needed to figure yourself out. For Kurt, and for you. Alright?"

Blaine nodded. "Alright," he said. "By the way, I agreed to try out the 'friends' thing."

"Good." Cooper grinned. Blaine stiffened when he pulled him in for a hug, but relaxed and awkwardly hugged him back. Finally, Cooper pulled away and headed back toward the car, calling over his shoulder, "See you at New Years, Blaine!"

"Have a nice flight!" Blaine said back.

He knocked on the door feeling ten times lighter than before.

* * *

Blaine took a handful of popcorn and popped a few pieces in his mouth. He perched on the edge of Mike's bed while the other boy searched for the video game case, and looked around the room.

It was simple enough, with sage green walls, plain white bedding, and a wooden bedside table and dresser. There was a lamp with a crooked shade and an alarm clock sitting on the table. Some books were scattered around on the floor and the closet door was half open, revealing a pair of tap shoes and a few pairs of sneakers. There were pictures almost everywhere.

He stood up and wandered over to the dresser, picking up a few photographs and glancing at them curiously. "Who's this?" he asked, holding up a picture of a smiling, blue-eyed blonde girl and a cat.

Mike looked up from where he was searching. "Oh, that's Brittany," he answered. "She's in my dance group. That's probably the third picture of her and her cat that I've gotten this week."

"Oh, wow," Blaine said with a laugh.

"Yeah. You know she's dating that theatre major, Santana? I found out Thursday when she ran into practice after Brittany hurt her ankle. It was the weirdest thing. Santana's usually so..."

"Bitchy?" Blaine supplied.

"Yeah."

Blaine set the picture back down on the dresser. He watched Mike continue to search for the game before tentatively asking, "How does the school, uh, react to them? Being together."

Mike shrugged. "Not much different than they would act normally. It's a very accepting school... and, let's face it, it_is _an arts school. Abnormal is sort of _normal_."

Blaine blinked. "Oh," he said dumbly. "I guess so."

After a nod and a bit more rummaging, Mike held up the game with a triumphant, "Found it!" before putting it in. He tossed Blaine a remote and turned on the Xbox as Blaine walked back over to the bed.

While the console started up and Mike settled on the floor, Blaine fiddled with the controller. His eyes flickered between the screen and his hands before he asked, "Remember what I told you about Kurt?"

"Yep."

"Well, I agreed to try it out," Blaine said. "Y'know. Friends."

Mike twisted around to look at him. "That's great," he said, and Blaine could tell it was sincere. "But honestly? Good luck. A lot of people are going to give you two hell about that."

"Thanks," Blaine said. He figured he would need the luck, too. Even just sitting with Mike, a dance major, got him looks that made him think he was breaking some traditional code. Artie and Tina wouldn't like it, Kurt's friends wouldn't like it, and just about everybody at McKinley wouldn't like it. At least one person saw nothing wrong with it.

Blaine really was lucky to have Mike as a friend.

* * *

**A/N:** Here you go!

Now, before I leave, I must tell you all that The Land of Stories is a great book. Completely unbiased; it is absolutely wonderful. I'm not just saying it because it's Chris', if the way I read it in around ten or so hours is any clue. So go buy it and read it now! Unless you can't, then come here for a hug until you can get one.

Thanks to Caitlin for beta-ing! You all should go read her new story (at _CAStonehouse_) because it's good.

Also, thank you guys for the lovely reviews! Keep 'em coming! x


	9. Scene Eight

Scene Eight

* * *

Blaine was bombarded with demands the moment he walked into Mrs. Hall's classroom.

As if his five-minute walk there hadn't been enough, he thought. The minute he had stepped out of the car he had turned into the center of attention, and not the good kind. Of course he had expected _some_reaction; he just didn't think it would be so big, and so soon. Sure, they had all weekend to get the word around, but when had Blaine's private life become such a public interest?

His attention turned back to the current situation when he felt something crush his toe.

"Ouch!" he hissed, glaring at Artie as he calmly rolled off. "What was that for?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Artie said, giving him a glare with his arms folded over his chest. Tina stood behind him, looking slightly less intimidating, but wearing a similar look.

Blaine sighed. "This is because of Kurt, isn't it?"

"Hell _yes," _Artie said. "You can't form an alliance with the theatre majors!"

"We're just friends," Blaine interrupted with a frown. "It's not like I'm giving them a cannon to start World War Three or anything."

"You might as well be." Artie sighed. "You're making a mistake, Blaine. A mistake that you'll regret. He's probably just using you for something."

"Like what?" Blaine said. He almost felt like laughing; even under the pretense that he was a snobbish brat, Kurt wouldn't have anything to use Blaine for.

"Just trust me, Blaine, and quit while you're ahead."

Blaine shook his head and walked over toward his seat, sliding in and dropping his bag. Artie and Tina did the same, and just before the lesson started, Blaine looked at them and whispered, "_You_ will just have to trust _me_ when I say I'm doing it, whether you like it or not."

* * *

Blaine didn't even worry about the extra looks (as if he weren't already getting enough) when he loudly slammed his tray down on the table and flopped down uselessly in the chair.

"Bad day?" Mike guessed.

Blaine laughed bitterly. "You wouldn't know half of it."

With a shrug, Mike speared his salad and said, "I've heard some stuff. Try me."

"Well, for starters, Artie and Tina aren't talking to me, but I should've expected that one," Blaine said. "Everyone's looking at me with this 'seriously?' expression, and the film and theatre majors are giving me the death glare. I've had people tell me that I'm practically committing social suicide, and others tell me that I'm making _Kurt_look bad..."

"Breathe," Mike advised.

Blaine let out a huff, forked some macaroni into his mouth, and chewed. Once he swallowed, he continued, in a slightly less panicked voice, "I mean, everyone's acting like it's the end of the world," he said. "Not to mention it's only the first day... I knew it was a tight community here, but I didn't know things could spread this fast. Imagine how much worse it's going to get."

"I hate to say it, but you signed up for it," Mike said. "It's not _right_, but it was bound it happen."

"I know," Blaine muttered. "It's just... I'm kind of starting to regret agreeing to this."

Another voice spoke behind him, "Should I just leave now, then?"

He twisted around in his seat. Kurt was standing there, lunch tray in hand, with an expression that reminded Blaine of a kicked puppy. Blaine immediately backtracked.

"No, I-"

"I can leave if you want me to, Blaine," Kurt said with a sigh. He forced his chin up. "I have other friends."

Something in his voice wavered and Blaine felt his stomach twist guiltily because it almost sounded like a lie.

"I promise, I don't mean it," he tried to say as earnestly as possible. Kurt continued to watch him warily and he pedaled on, "I promise," he repeated, "I'm just… overwhelmed."

Kurt hesitated before giving up with a sigh. "Whatever," he said. He gestured to the open spot next to Blaine, "Is this seat taken?"

Blaine smiled in relief. "Not at all."

* * *

"So they just left you?"

"_Yeah_," Kurt replied. "_I was the only one who showed up. Rachel won't answer my texts and my own stepbrother didn't even look me in the eye at dinner. You know when I sat with you at lunch today_?"

"Yeah."

"_That's because they wouldn't let me sit with them._"

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to fight the incoming migraine. "I'm so sorry, Kurt," he muttered.

Kurt sighed loudly on the other end of the line. "_It's alright."_

"No, no, it's not," Blaine said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed aside his homework. "Look, I know we've barely tested the waters, but if these are the consequences..."

"_Not this again, Blaine_," Kurt groaned.

"Hear me out," Blaine said. "This isn't about me. You lost your friends, Kurt, at least for the time being. I don't want you to have to deal with that."

"_If they were my friends I wouldn't have lost them,"_ Kurt insisted.

Blaine fell back onto the pillows and allowed a few seconds' silence. Kurt had called sounding completely distraught, telling Blaine about how his "friends" ditched him at afternoon rehearsal, how Finn hadn't spoken to him since Sunday, and how he had wanted to tell Blaine at lunch but wasn't comfortable enough around Mike to do it. Blaine tried his best to console him, but at the moment, he was feeling just as confused as Kurt.

"Alright," he finally said.

Kurt hesitated on the other end. "_I'm sorry for calling you so late_."

"It's fine," Blaine assured, glancing over at his clock. "It's only nine, anyways, and I was doing some homework."

"_Oh, gosh, do I need to go now? I'm distracting you from your work..."_

"It's a good kind of distraction."

The other end went silent and Blaine bit back a groan. Did he seriously just say that?

"_Thanks_," he heard Kurt say, but he was too busy debating on whether or not to slam his head against the wall to care. He ran a hand through his hair and squeezed the loose curls, hiding a frustrated sigh.

"_So, Blaine..."_

"What?" he said, his tone coming out sharper than intended. "Sorry. I mean, what?" he repeated in a softer tone.

Kurt laughed. "_I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to help me rehearse one day this week? After school? I mean, you don't have to of course, just, uh, you can if you want_-"

"Sure," Blaine interrupted. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"_Oh, okay_," Kurt said, sounding surprised. "_Uh, does Wednesday work for you? Just an hour in the auditorium will do. I don't want to keep you from anywhere_."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine said. "I have to check some angles, too, so that works. Did I tell you I was filming the play this year?"

"_No! You should have! You're lucky I didn't already buy you a ticket_."

Blaine gaped. "You were going to buy me a ticket?"

"_Of course, silly_," Kurt said. "_What are friends for?"_

Friends,

Blaine thought, wondering if the happy feeling he got from the confirmation was normal.

"Oh," he finally said. "Well, thanks, but I get in for free."

"_No problem_," Kurt replied, and Blaine could practically hear his smile. "_Well, listen, I've got to moisturize and head to bed. You finish that homework and do the same, alright_?"

"Alright,_ mom_," Blaine said, grinning at the way Kurt laughed. They exchanged a quick "goodnight" before Kurt hung up and Blaine started back on his homework.

It didn't take him long to finish and soon he was pulling the blankets up to his chin, turning off the bedside lamp, and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about the week's gap, I was taking a week off & my beta wasn't feeling too well. Unfortunately, school starts next week for me so I'm not sure if I'll be getting you the usual Wednesday update while my week settles in, so you'll all have to bear with me. On the upside, I'm going to sit down & plan this thing from start to finish. From there, it's just finding time to write!

Thanks Caitlin for the beta. :) Review!


	10. Scene Nine

Scene Nine

* * *

"Nice of you to make it to practice, Kurt."

Blaine paused at the door, equipment in hand, at the familiar, bossy tone that could belong to none other than Rachel Berry.

"Nice of _me _to make it? Nice of all of _you_ not to completely blow it off," Kurt's voice quipped back, rising in volume toward the end of his sentence.

"Didn't Finn text you?" Rachel asked. "We had practice at the gym."

"_Finn," _Kurt said, "didn't text me anything."

"And for what reason did you have it in the gym, anyways?" Kurt continued. "To set me aside? Surely you can't get anything done in the gym. There's at least five different sports teams in there every afternoon."

"Hmmph," Rachel grunted.

"All of this is because of Blaine, isn't it?" Kurt asked in a quieter voice, then added, "Scratch that, I _know _it's because of Blaine."

"You should have known what would happen if you started dating him," Rachel said.

"We aren't dating!" Kurt said, sounding exasperated. "We're just friends, I'm not even sure if he's gay, and even if, Rachel, you sound like you just jumped out of a bad Disney Channel movie. Could you... I don't know, _grow up _a little?"

"You're the one who needs to grow up and accept that you're the one who's wrong here, Kurt," Rachel countered. "You knew what would happen, so stop arguing with me like a child."

"It's funny, you know," Blaine said, finally easing himself through the cracked auditorium doors. "A friend Kurt's only had for a few days already acts more like one than the friends he's had for a while."

Every head turned in Blaine's direction. There were noises of obvious disapproval, and a quiet mutter from Santana (who had remained silent throughout the entire encounter), "If they aren't screwing now, they will be."

Ignoring the crude comment, Kurt's lips twitched up in a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Finding the right angles," Blaine said, lifting his tripod, "for filming the musical. But I guess I ended up doing a bit more than that."

"Like leaving," Rachel huffed with a pointed glare in Kurt's direction. "Just go, Kurt. Practice your lines at home, for the sake of the musical. We won't get anywhere like this."

Kurt returned the glare. "Fine. I will," and with that, he marched down the aisle toward Blaine, and in a whisper said, "I'm so sorry. How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Blaine assured, tentatively placing his free hand on Kurt's shoulder. "They're idiots."

"Thank you," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do, before throwing all caution out the window as he said, "C'mon. I'll buy you coffee."

* * *

"Grande nonfat mocha."

Blaine put his hand on Kurt's as the other boy made for his wallet, slowly pushing it aside and ignoring the rush of sensation the contact brought. "I told you, it's on me."

Kurt regarded him with a faint smile and what could only be described as a twinkle in his eye before it was gone and he said, "I'm going to use the restroom."

Blaine nodded and watched as he left, only bringing his gaze away when the barista called out his name. He grabbed the two coffees and handed over a ten dollar bill, patiently waiting for his change. When he got it he made his way over to the small counter. Seconds later, Kurt joined him, plucking a straw from the basket and watching as Blaine uncapped his own and reached for the cinnamon.

"Now how did I guess that?"

Blaine glanced up. "Hm?"

"The cinnamon," Kurt explained.

"Oh. I don't know," Blaine said, grabbing a stirrer and mixing it in. "Considering we don't really know much about each other..."

"Well, let's fix that," Kurt proposed, bumping his shoulder playfully as they walked toward the empty table in the very back corner of the shop. He pulled out his seat and slid into it, his eyes following Blaine as he did the same. "Tell me about yourself, Blaine Anderson, film major."

"Well, Kurt Hummel, theatre major, what do you want to know?" Blaine shot back coyly.

Kurt took a sip of his drink. "Well, where did you move from? Transfer student, right?"

Blaine nodded. "California."

"Did you like it there?"

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah. It was nice, I guess."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic," Kurt said, nudging Blaine's foot underneath the table. For a fleeting moment Blaine wondered if what they were doing classified as a date, but just as quickly he shook the thought out of his head. "Did you surf? Sun and the sand?"

Blaine laughed. "No. Just school. Film club," he said. "What about you? How's Ohio been?"

Kurt mocked a yawn. "It's been... well, it's been Ohio. I'm lucky to have McKinley around; I'm not sure if I could handle going to your average run-of-the-mill public school. I've got..." he paused, then corrected, "well, I've had friends around, but New York City is still out there. Broadway is my dream."

Blaine smiled. "So I would imagine."

"How about you?" Kurt asked, titling his head to the side. "What do you want to do? Something in film?"

Blaine hesitated. "I... Yeah, that would be nice," he said, "but to be honest, I don't have anything specific in mind yet."

Kurt reached forward and put a hand on Blaine's. His gaze immediately moved downward, staring at the contact in shock, until Kurt finally noticed and retracted his hand slowly.

He cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," Kurt said, attempting to sound nonchalant, "we're only sophomores. You have all the time in the world to figure out what you want to be."

With a nod, Blaine tried to hide his surprise at the tingling sensation left from Kurt's hand being on his own.

Thankfully, his beeping cellphone gave him a welcome distraction.

"Oh, that's my mom," he mumbled. "She wants me to come home and help with dinner. Apparently, my dad has some big-shot client coming over to talk business." Blaine stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and downing the rest of his coffee.

Kurt pouted. "Oh. Well, can we do this again sometime?"

"Yep," Blaine answered, slowly pushing his chair in. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Looking forward to it."

* * *

"Good to see you, Bryan!"

"You too, George."

Blaine stood awkwardly to the side as his dad and his business partner shook hands. His dad gestured toward him and said, "Here, Blaine will show you to the kitchen. Laura's made us a fantastic dinner. I'll go grab my client files."

Bryan nodded and turned to Blaine. He eyed him almost critically, but nodded his approval and said, "Looking sharp there, Blaine. After you."

With a short quirk of his lip that was intended to be a smile, Blaine took the lead and led Bryan through the short hallway, past the foyer, and into the dining room, where his mother had just finished placing the last dish. "I hope you like lasagna. George said you had a thing for Italian food."

"I do," he said. "And this dinner looks lovely, Mrs. Anderson."

"Please, call me Laura."

The three of them took their seats and patiently waited for Blaine's father to return from his office. Blaine put his hand over the phone in his pocket, wondering if it would go unnoticed to send a quick text to Kurt before dinner started.

The universe had other ideas.

"Sorry about the wait, my files were a little unorganized," his dad apologized, taking his seat next to his wife. "That's what a busy work schedule can do to you."

"It's no problem, dear," Laura assured. "So, shall we say a prayer?"

Blaine internally sighed as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, only half-listening as his father thanked God for their blessings and food (which, Blaine would add, the coleslaw was courtesy of _him, _and not some higher deity up above).

The first few minutes of the supper passed in silence, with the occasional comment, "This is delicious," and, "You made this, Blaine? Best coleslaw I've ever eaten," added with a joke about how he could possibly manage to cook such a delicious thing between football practice and wooing the ladies.

"But seriously, Blaine," Bryan said a second later, "no girlfriend yet?"

Blaine shook his head. "No."

"Well," his mother cut in, "he did have a short relationship with a cute girl named Tina. She looked like a total sweetheart, but Blaine never introduced me..."

"I'd really like to say it's a shame, but I'm not quite sure I can."

"Why's that, Bryan?"

"Well, I've got a daughter, you know that. She attends Crawford County Day over in Westerville. Real pretty thing, blue eyes, blonde hair. Looks just like my wife."

Blaine's mom nudged him playfully.

"There's actually a school dance coming up, if you're interested, Blaine."

Blaine was quiet.

"Blaine, what do you say?" his mother prompted.

Blaine hesitated before saying, "I don't know. I'm really busy with school and stuff and-"

"Don't worry 'bout it, son. I'm sure she can wait to meet the ever polite and handsome Blaine Anderson. Maybe you could take her to the staff Christmas party."

Blaine's mother nodded. "I'm sure he would love to meet your little girl, huh Blaine?"

"Right."

Your little _girl_.

* * *

**A/N: **I am ~so~ sorry! And I could come up with all the excuses in the world - some reasonable, some not - but when it boils down to it school = exhaustion. I am definitely going to try harder to get these to you from now on, but, I'm going to move updates to Sundays since it gives me time to outline plot during the school week (when I should be paying attention in Biology, but ssh) and then write on Fridays/Saturdays. And I might only get time to update every other week, but we'll see.

So... yeah. Thanks Caitlin, as always! Reviews appreciated (even if I don't deserve them)!


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